


Love In Death

by SherlockHolmes



Series: Asexy April 24 Fics in 24 Hours Challenge [7]
Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: Asexual Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-27
Updated: 2013-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-09 15:42:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/775915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockHolmes/pseuds/SherlockHolmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Ace!Gilbert who thinks that love is the same as desire to have sex which is why he believes he never found it</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love In Death

Gilbert lived death like he lived life - living in the moment for as long and as hard as possible.

Of course, the specified moment became a bit more blurred as death went on. The eighties lasted once a week from four in the afternoon until one in the morning. The non-existence of humanity - every morning from three until six, especially at his own grave. The first world war, well, only when he was with Sykes.

There wasn’t a moment in Gilbert’s calendar which was in the living modern world until Mitchell introduced him to Annie. Suddenly, there were all these modern moments, moments where his present, her present, and the actual present matched.

Time wasn’t the only thing that got aligned as he spent time with Annie. The entire world seemed to shift on it’s axis, aligning with what he’d always understood.

Her love of Owen was what had done it. Despite the boundaries that separated them - namely, their different states of death and life - she loved him with all her heart. Even as he went out with his new partner, she doted on him. Her desire was pure, soulful, born of love, not lust.

For as long as Gilbert could remember, he had thought them to be the same. After all, what was a relationship without lust? What was love without that deep, fiery, sexual passion that sparked so many poems, songs and novels? Every book he read, every song he heard, they all seemed to suggest he was doing something wrong when he didn’t feel what they felt.

Annie, however, showed that it was them that was wrong. The deepest love wasn’t the burning passion, but the soft one. The kind, gentle one, which burned soft and warm until someone extinguished it.

It was to that discovery that his door appeared, beckoning him into the next world.

The thanks he gave Annie was the most sincere he’d ever given.


End file.
